


Sometimes it Just Hurts

by Lucy_Ferrier



Category: The Halcyon (TV)
Genre: Don't copy to another site, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:13:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24697375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucy_Ferrier/pseuds/Lucy_Ferrier
Summary: Too much. Too much. All too much.He dragged himself back up to his room, shoulders hunched and resisting the urge to curl his hands over his ears, instead of curling them into fists in his pockets, nails biting deeply into the meat of his palms. His chest went tight; tight enough that he finally took notice, his shoulders aching with the weight of dragging his ribs up down, up down, as his diaphragm refused to expand properly....obligatory headache fic
Relationships: Toby Hamilton/Adil Joshi
Comments: 10
Kudos: 15





	Sometimes it Just Hurts

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not too sure when I'd say this is set, but it could be either between ep5 and 6, or post canon. up to you

It had been a stressful few weeks. What with work being what it was, his family being the way they were, and everything in between, Toby felt as though he was holding himself together with old sticky tape; as though he was on the cusp of crashing, burning out, falling apart so much so that people might _actually_ be inclined to notice for a change.

And yet. It all still managed to sneak up on him. That persistent dry cough, the slight yet building tension in his sinuses, his shaking hands. All progressively getting worse as the week wore on, but he pushed through it because he _could_ push through it, couldn’t afford _not_ to push through it, even as the early mornings hit him harder, and the late nights left him cold and tired. The weekend couldn’t have come fast enough – and it was all he could do to insist he still actually got his weekends at this point.

He’d gone to bed with a mild tension headache, and a sore throat so raw he could feel it in his ears. He’d been woken only briefly as Adil entered his room, quietly stripped off his uniform and wrapped himself around him, Toby feeling himself relax into the other boy in relief as he returned to sleep.

When Toby had woken, Adil was long gone, but he was sure he felt better. He’d gotten to sleep in, he could eat breakfast at the leisurely pace he normally did with his mother. He had nowhere to be, and nothing pressing to do. His head felt tight and his chest felt somewhat compressed, but he didn’t notice for the larger part of the morning. Until the light began to slide through the windows at just the _wrong_ angle; catching his peripheral and driving straight into the back of his skull.

Toby glared at his lap even as he fought a wince. He didn’t have time for this. This weekend was his two seconds of freedom before he had to head back to the office on Monday, _he did not have time for this._ Toby loved his work, loved the puzzles and the way it all fit together; loved how he felt useful, felt needed. But reports were still reports. There were few things Toby hated more than public speaking, and next week’s presentation, minor though it was, had been given to _him_ for the first time, chance to prove himself and, hopefully, if all went well, he’d be offered more work for his efforts. He _did not have time_ to be under the weather, to any extent, but especially not to the extent he knew was coming. He sighed in frustration as the collective voices of the lounge suddenly felt that much louder, drumming against his ears until they stung and working their way into his sinuses.

_Too much. Too much. All too much._

He dragged himself back up to his room, shoulders hunched and resisting the urge to curl his hands over his ears, instead of curling them into fists in his pockets, nails biting deeply into the meat of his palms. His chest went tight; tight enough that he finally took notice, his shoulders aching with the weight of dragging his ribs _up down, up down,_ as his diaphragm refused to expand properly.

Sunlight slid through the windows and sliced through his skull again as he entered the hallway, and it felt like all at once he was aware of how _heavy_ his sinuses felt, like they were drawing his face _down, down, down,_ tucking his chin into his collar, swollen and angry as if he could have ruptured them with a pin, as if the resulting _bang_ would have startled the guests heading down the stairs to the bar. That gnawing pain in his throat was nearly little more than a vaguely uncomfortable memory, but his ears felt like they were _burning,_ on the verge of exploding. The bar would be opening soon, Toby thought vaguely. Adil would probably wonder where he was when he inevitably didn’t show up, he thought with mild guilt.

Toby’s hands shook violently as he fished around in his trouser pocket for his room key, his pulse was loud and thundering, throbbing in his fingertips, and Toby wasn’t sure if he was on the verge of fainting or throwing up. Yanking the door open, he burst into frustrated tears when he realised the chambermaids had politely drawn back the blackout curtains, leaving his room bathed in what on another day he would have said was soft afternoon sunlight. He slid down the door until he could curl into his knees, his fingers winding into his hair and tugging harshly as Toby jammed his knees into his eyes until he saw static.

_Deep breath. Deep breath. Pause. Okay._

Pulling himself up, Toby moved about his room with eyes half-closed. Staring at his feet left him feeling dizzy, the building pressure in his sinuses specifically dependent on the angle he held his head. Toby was vaguely aware of a building pressure under his jaw, and he chewed furiously at his lip until he felt it start to split.

Pulling the thick curtains closed again left the room dark and cool, but the tension remained deep-set in Toby’s posture, his hands beginning to cramp from how tightly he’d been clenching them. Exhaustion had begun to cash over him in heavy waves, his eyes aching when he closed them and becoming increasingly harder to open. He flopped heavily onto his bed, wincing when the resulting jolt travelled through him. Pulling his shoes, jacket and tie, the bare minimum he needed to remove to make himself more comfortable, felt impossible, and glancing at his pyjamas, now neatly refolded despite the heap he’d left them in this morning, only made everything seem harder.

Toby had retreated so far into his own head that he missed the soft knock on his door, Adil pushing it open a crack after a short pause. Toby blinked at Adil’s small smile, confused.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

“I was. Am. I was worried.” Taking note of the darkened room and Toby’s ashen face, Adil closed the door behind himself, as gently as possible. “You look terrible.”

Toby couldn’t find the energy for a response, instead merely sighing heavily again and drawing his shoulders up around his ears as he peered up at Adil pathetically.

“It hurts.”

His voice was flat and cracked, not a whine exactly, but as if he was just barely keeping himself from crying. His lip had begun to bleed lightly where he’d chewed it before, the rest of his face appearing somewhat puffy and pale, his cheekbones all the more prominent from the distension of his sinuses.

Adil crossed the room to where Toby seated, Toby immediately burying his face in Adil’s stomach as soon as it came within reach. Adil’s hands buried themselves in Toby’s hair on impulse, gently running through the short strands, and began working through the knots Toby and wound in earlier.

“I have fifteen minutes. What do you need?” Adil murmured lightly into the top of Toby’s head.

Toby had begun tracing patterns on the backs of Adil’s knees, focussing on trying to breathe deeper, on slowing his pulse.

“I just want to go to sleep,” He croaked. “But I can’t… it’s too hard. Too much effort.” His throat felt thick, and he wished he didn’t have to talk, to explain, wished Adil could just _know,_ or if he couldn’t, then just leave, although he felt horrible for thinking so. He didn’t want to be alone, but he didn’t want to be fussed over either.

Toby reached out towards where his pyjamas still were, the minimal movement feeling like a monstrous effort, then peered back up at Adil.

“Help me change?”

Adil smiled, his hands moving to Toby’s tie, familiar yet foreign without that usual charge between them. But by the time Toby was stripped to his undershirt and shorts, he decided that was enough, and flopped, exhausted, back on the mattress.

“You should at least get under the covers if you’re not actually going to put these on.” Murmured Adil dryly, raising an eyebrow. As calm as he tried to appear, seeing Toby like this was unnerving. He’d heard Lady Hamilton mention in passing to someone else that Toby occasionally suffered headaches, Toby himself mentioning it once or twice as he’d rubbed roughly at his face. But a _headache,_ well. Everyone got headaches sometimes, from stress, dehydration, maybe allergies if that was something they had. But Adil hadn’t realised that when he thought _headache,_ he thought of mild aches in his temples and not enough sleep, and that was not what Toby meant.

When Toby said _headache,_ he meant every movement he made caused him pain in his head, that breathing became difficult because of the swelling in his face, thinking and concentration and _talking_ became hard when his brain felt like it had been replaced with cotton wool and razor blades. Adil hadn’t realised, that when Toby said _headache,_ when Toby said he was dreading a _headache,_ he meant he wasn’t going to be able to move from his bed for hours or days, and when he inevitably did, it would be because he was driven out by the boredom of lying in a dark room by himself, unable to do anything, and not necessarily from the lack of pain. It was… yes, it was unnerving, to say the least.

Adil glanced at his watch as Toby let out a small groan and moved himself under the sheet and quilts.

“I have to head back down in a minute.” He knelt down beside the bed, tracing Toby’s hairline as the other boy tucked the blankets up over his nose. “Is there anything else I can do?”

“If you could grab the pills out of the draw… yes, that one. And some water? There should be a glass in the bathroom. On the sink.”

Toby sat up again after a pause and downed two aspirin as soon as Adil handed him the bottle, swallowing them dry before chasing them with a mouthful of water. He then took the second bottle and eyed it warily, before replacing it on the bedside.

“You don’t want that one?” Adil furrowed his brows in confusion. The label on the bottle read _Methadone_ in large typography, and was filled nearly to the top with tablets, compared to the aspirin which appeared to be nearly empty. Toby hadn’t said much, but well, he wasn’t big on talking about his pain. One too many people telling him it couldn’t possibly be that bad, that it was just a headache, had him rather tight-lipped about saying anything at all. But Toby wasn’t big on asking for help either, especially when he could do normally quite easily himself. Toby’s little _it hurts_ drifted back to Adil, and he felt himself twist his fingers together anxiously, pulling harshly at the joints.

Toby shook his head. “I don’t like narcotics much. And it’s not that bad yet,” He lied, laying back down on the bed. “I’m sure it’ll be fine after I sleep,” He said doubtfully.

The truth was, that Toby was already feeling nauseous, shaky and dizzy, and it had been long enough since he’d used the methadone that he knew he’d probably vomit, easily faint, and probably start seeing things in the dark if he swallowed the pills. He’d always been rather sensitive to opiates.

Adil bit his lip, but nodded. “Is still okay if I come up after my shift?”

Toby smiled lightly and gave his own weak nod. Adil grinned, leaning down to kiss his forehead, smiling into it when he felt Toby’s eyes flutter shut at the contact.

“I’ll see you later then.” He said, still quiet, before he headed out of the room, mindful of keeping the door quiet as it clicked shut behind him.

One hour later, Toby was downing the methadone in earnest, the aspirin having done almost nothing to reduce the pain, even if it _must_ have done something for the persistent swelling in his face. He couldn’t sleep for the pain, and he hoped, idly, that at the very least these painkillers might make him drowsy enough to knock him out for a few hours.

Which it did. For nearly three solid hours.

After that, he drifted in and out of a doze, the pain very much still present, but it was as if Toby was sitting next to it still within his own body, rather than _in_ the pain. It was strange and yet not entirely unexpected. As his body got used to the pain, and the painkillers actually did their job, well. He was aware that his sinuses still stuck out further than they would normally, was aware that his throat felt thick with mucus, a side effect of the swelling. Was aware that his ears were probably blocked, and aware that he couldn’t breathe easily through his nose. But it all felt rather distant. What was most pressing to Toby, at that very moment, having been lying in bed for now over four hours, unmoving and unstimulated, was an almost claustrophobic boredom.

The methadone had _not_ made him see things that weren’t there, although the room did shift slightly strangely, and his hands felt slightly numb and shook rapidly. He could tell that his pulse was still too fast, but he couldn’t hear it now, so Toby couldn’t quite bring himself to care anymore. His clock lay stifled in spare blankets and further buried under extra pillows across the room after the persistent _tick tock_ had that had felt like it was drilling holes in his head had driven Toby across the room the quell it. As he’d begun to wake up in earnest, before the pain could return properly, Toby had begun thinking about work. Then begun _over_ thinking about work. Until normally he would have worked himself into a _complete_ state, but now he merely got sick of himself and started thinking about Adil. And that was all well and good, until he got sick of himself again and starting thinking about Freddie, for all of ten minutes before he groaned in frustration and rolled over, pressing the other side of his face into the pillow and startling himself with a new stab of pain. He felt like his brain was eating itself, could have sworn he felt that feeling all the way down in his chest; that pressing frustration, irritation and _boredom._ Oh god being in pain was boring after a while.

When Adil finally returned at the end of his shift, Toby had managed to twist the blankets tightly around his legs and middle, one pillow fallen unnoticed on the floor behind him. He’d begun tossing and turning in a fruitless effort to find a comfortable position as the painkillers had begun to wear off without him fully realising, being unable to do anything adding to his agitation.

Adil flicked the light on as he entered out of habit, unthinking. Toby’s resulting shriek, mostly pain, but also a fair amount of surprise startling Adil as he realised what he’d just done, and immediately turning the light back off, Toby having already shoved his head under his pillow with a groan.

“I’m sorry! Toby, Toby are you okay? I’m so sorry.” Adil rushed over to the bed in the dark, managing not to run or trip on anything on the way. “Toby?”

“Well that was thrilling.” Toby’s reply remained muffled by his pillow but still managing to drip with sarcasm, his breathing slightly ragged. “I’m okay,” he reassured as Adil’s face remained tight with anxiety. “Actually, that’s the most entertainment I’ve had all day. I mean, definitely don’t do it again please, but do you know how many things I could have gotten done instead of being stuck like this?” Toby asked, rolling onto his back. “So many. I could have finished off the report that I’m meant to work on on Monday, given myself a head start on that presentation I have to do. We could have actually done something in your break instead of me being stuck here whining and not being able to do anything. I hate this.”

“Are you feeling better then?” Adil asked, choosing not to fuel Toby’s frustration, but amused by his rambling nonetheless.

“No.” he pouted. “Well, a little bit. But still not _better._ And it’s just… what if I’m still like this tomorrow morning? Or _Monday?_ I can’t…” Toby arched his back and ran his fingers through his hair and tugged harshly, strands coming away in his fingers, making Adil’s eye widen in concern again. “I don’t have time for this,” he sighed, sinking back against the mattress, the fight leaving him again.

Adil kicked off his shoes and moved to lie down beside him, eyes searching. Toby’s face, before so sickly pale, was now flushed from the swelling, his jawline softened by the raised bumps of the glands under his jaw.

“I’m sorry.” He simply whispered, twisting his own fingers around Toby’s.

Toby smiled softly in reply. “I’m sorry I’m not the best company today.”

“I don’t mind. And I know it’s not your fault.” Adil’s grin suddenly widened. “And _some_ of us just finished 10-hour shifts,” he teased. “So I don’t mind just sleeping.”

“Well, maybe _I_ mind.” Toby fake pouted, Adil’s huffed laughter making him break out in his own smile, even as Adil made to remove his bowtie and jacket, flopping back down with a sigh and jostling them both.

“Sorry, sorry,” he muttered when he saw Toby wince.

“S’okay,” Toby mumbled, allowing Adil to crawl under the covers with him, instinctively chasing the warmth. He went boneless against him, tucking his face into Adil’s collarbone, and breathing deeply. Adil yawned, but shoved at Toby roughly and sat back up.

“You need to re-medicate yourself. And I’m stealing your pyjamas, seeing as you’re not going to use them.”

Toby grunted in response and reached over for the two pill bottles, downing a pill each, swallowing them dry before laying back down, half watching Adil get changed.

As the medicine began to kick in, Toby felt himself growing drowsy again despite himself. He curled himself back around Adil as he returned to the bed, now dressed in Toby’s way too big pyjamas, and sighed, not happily but edging on content. Beside him, Adil let out another yawn and wrapped himself back around Toby, and they both drifted off into exhausted sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> some bonus notes and nitpicking, if anyone is interested:
> 
> so this is based on sinus headaches rather than migraines, although there is a lot of overlap in the symptoms. the main difference is where it hurts (sinus headache is obviously in the sinus) and triggers. but basically, sinus headaches are an overactive immune response, where the upper respiratory system swells up in response to a trigger, such as dust or pollen, but can also be triggered by non-allergic triggers such as cold air, high and/or low humidity, and changes in air pressure (like before a storm), stress, and anxiety. part of that immune response can also include swollen ears (the canal is connected to the sinus), swollen glands, sore/swollen throat, excess mucus secretion, and asthma. this is what I have. it is sooooo much fun.
> 
> aspirin is a type of non-steroidal anti-inflammatory (or NSAID) and is one of the only non-narcotic painkillers from the early 20th century, earlier than that too (paracetamol comparatively only became widely manufactured in the 50s). it is obviously used for inflammation and swelling, but also can be used for fever, high blood pressure, and as a mild blood thinner.
> 
> methadone is a narcotic or opiate drug, in the same class as morphine, heroin, oxycontin, codeine and fentanyl, and is addictive as well as having all the usual side effects associated with opioids (nausea/vomiting, fast pulse, dizziness, hallucinations etc.) but was popular in the 40s, likely because it isn't quite as strong as morphine. these days it isn't really used as a painkiller much, since we've created synthetic opioids like oxycontin. usually it's now used to treat heroin withdrawal (which can kill you), because it attaches itself to the same neuroreceptors as heroin, but stays in your system for several days rather than several hours, so it also reduces the risk of overdose. if you've ever heard of methadone clinics, that's what this is used in; doctors and nurses supply methadone to heroin addicts so that they can safely shoot up (it can be a pill or IV) with controlled doses, and the users can't be arrested for drug use. they have them in some major cities, but they're not that common yet, which is a shame because it makes a massive difference to drug-related mortality rates.
> 
> ...  
> anyway, thanks for reading xx


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